THE  BALLAD  OF  READING 
GAOL  BY  OSCAR  WILDE 


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THE  BALLAD  OF  READING 
GAOL  BY  OSCAR  WILDE 

C3-3- 


PUBLISHED  AND  PRINTED  BY  JOS.  ISHILL 
FERRER  COLONY,  STELTON,  N.  J.  1916 


IN  MEMORIAM 

C.  T.  W. 

SOMETIME  TROOPER  OF  THE  ROYAL 

HORSE  GUARDS 

OBIIT 

H.  M.  PRISON,  READING,  BERKSHIRE, 

JULY  7,  1896 


FOREWORD 


HEN  ASKED  TO  WRITE  A  "FOR  E- 
W  O  R  D"  TO  A  CHARMING  EDITION 
OF  "THE  BALLAD  OF  READING 
GAOL"  GOT  UP  BY  Mr.  ISHILL  OF 
the  Ferrer  Colonu  of  Stelton,  N.J., 
I  could  not  but  accept  though 
I  have  said  nearlu  all  I  wanted  to  sau  in  mu 
book  —  "OSCAR  WILDE;  His  Life  and 
Confessions." 

"The  Ballad  of  Reading  Gaol"  is  to  me  in- 
comparably the  greatest  ballad  in  all  English 
poetry.  It  is  even  more;  it  is  the  topmost  reach 
of  the  human  spirit  in  the  whole  nineteenth 
century,  and  in  some  sort  a  flag,  or  first  in- 
dication in  literature  of  that  re-birth  of  religion 
which  with  the  renascence  of  art  will  consti- 
tute the  chief  characteristic  of  the  twentieth 
century.  I  venture  to  repeat  here  what  I  have 
said  in  various  ways  for  nearly  twentu  years 
now,  that  Oscar  Wilde's  condemnation  of 
prisons  and  punishment  must  lead  directlu  to 


FOREWORD  II 

their  abolition.  The  old  bad  past  will  die  and 
Oscar  Wilde's  ballad  helped  to  kill  it. 

They  hanged  him  as  a  beast  is  hanged: 

Theu  did  not  even  toll 
A  requiem  that  might  have  brought 

Rest  to  his  startled  soul, 
But  hurriedly  theu  took  him  out 

And  hid  him  in  a  hole 


The  chaplain  would  not  kneel  to  prau 

Bu  his  dishonored  grave; 
Nor  mark  it  with  that  blessed  Cross 

That  Christ  for  sinners  gave; 
Because  the  man  was  one  of  those 

Whom  Christ  came  down  to  save. 

The  verses  shame  all  of  us  for  we  know  their 
truth.  Hospitals  and  doctors  and  nurses  must 
take  the  place  of  prisons  and  judges  and 
jailors  and  the  sooner  the  better.  W  i  1  d  e's 
verses  sound  the  requiem:  theu  remind  us  that 
only  he  who  is  without  sin  has  anu  right  to 
punish.  Listen  to  the  words: 

But  this  I  know,  that  every  Law 
That  men  have  made  for  Man, 

Since  first  Man  took  his  brother's  life 
And  the  sad  world  began, 

But  straws  the  wheat  and  saves  the  chaff 
With  a  most  evil  fan. 


Ill  FOREWORD 

This  too  I  know — and  wise  it  were 
If  each  could  know  the  same  — 

That  every  prison  that  men  build 
Is  built  with  bricks  of  shame, 

And  bound  with  bars  lest  Christ  should  see 
How  men  their  brothers  maim. 


With  bars  theu  blur  the  gracious  moon, 

And  blind  the  goodly  sun: 
And  they  do  well  to  hide  their  Hell, 

For  in  it  things  are  done 
That  Son  of  God  nor  son  of  Man 

Ever  should  look  upon. 


The  vilest  deeds  like  poison  weeds 

Bloom  well  in  prison  air: 
It  is  only  what  is  good  in  Man 

That  wastes  and  withers  there: 
Pale  Anguish  keeps  the  heavy  gate, 

And  the  Warder  is  Despair. 

For  theu  starve  the  little  frightened  child 
Till  it  weeps  both  night  and  day: 

And  theu  scourge  the  weak,  and  flog  the  fool, 
And  gibe  the  old  and  grau, 

And  some  grow  mad,  and  all  grow  bad, 
And  none  a  word  mau  sau. 

But  I  will  not  part  from  Oscar  Wilde  as  if  it 
were  the  prophet  and  seer  in  him  that  I  chieflu 


FOREWORD  IV 

prize:  he  was  one  of  the  "Shining  Ones";  and 
he  came  to  us  with  lips  athirst  with  love  of 
life  and  eyes  shining  with  life's  jou  and  de- 
light, and  that  is  how  I  love  to  think  of  him 
in  these  grau  days  of  hatred  and  butcheru. 

Whenever  I  meet  anyone  who  knew  Oscar 
Wilde  at  anu  period  of  his  life  I  am  sure  to 
hear  a  new  stortj  of  him  —  some  humorous 
or  wittu  thing  he  said. 

The  other  dau  I  saw  a  man  who  had  met 
Wilde  in  New  York  after  his  first  lecture 
tour.  He  told  him  he  hoped  tit  had  been  a 
success  and  Oscar  answered  him  gravelu  but 
with  dancing  eyes: 

"A  great  success.  I  had  two  secretaries,  one 
to  answer  mu  letters,  the  other  to  send  locks 
of  hair.  I  have  had  to  let  them  both  go,  poor 
fellows,  the  one  is  in  hospital  with  writer's 
cramp,  and  the  other  is  quite  bald." 

The  other  dau  I  lunched  with  Sir  Herbert 
Tree  at  the  Plaza  Hotel.  In  speaking  of  mu 
book  he  said: 

"Oscar  never  came  to  rehearsal  without  say- 
ing something  that  set  us  all  laughing.  I  think 
I  have  still  got  a  letter  from  him  written  from 


V  FOREWORD 

Paris  in  which  he  asks  me  to  go  there  assur- 
ing me  that  I  shall  have  a  great  reception  and 
a  tremendous  success;  though,  he  says, — 

"The  evening  papers  will  persist  in  referring 
to  you  as  Lord  Beerbohm,  autrefois  si 
bien  connu  sous  le  nom  d'Irving — 
for  the  evening  papers  are  capable  of  any- 
thing because  they  are  written  in  the  day- 
time —  a  period  at  which  journalists  are  al- 
most invariably  sober." 

And  so  with  happu  laughter  on  his  lips  I  give 
mu  friend  once  more  to  the  affection  of  men 
as  he  has  been  given  already  to  their  rever- 
ence and  their  pity. 

FRANK  HARRIS. 


X TE  did  not  wear  fbe  scarlet  coat, 

For  blood  and  wine  are  red, 
And  blood  and  wine  were  on  Kis  bands 

Wben  me$  found  bim  wifb  fbe  dead, 
Tne  poor  dead  woman  wbom  be  loved, 

And  murdered  in  ber  bed. 

He  walked  amongst  fbe  Trial  Men 

In  a  suit  of  sbabby  gray; 
A  cricket  cap  was  on  bis  bead, 

And  bis  step  seemed  ligbt  and  gay; 
But  I  never  saw  a  man  v?bo  lookod 

So  \\>istfulb?  at  fbe  day. 

I  never  saw  a  man  wbo  looked 

Wifb  sucb  a  wistful  eye 
Upon  fbat  little  tent  of  blue 

Wbicb  prisoners  call  me  sky, 
And  at  every  drifting  cloud  fbat  went 

Witb  sails  of  silver  by\ 

I  walked,  ^itb  otber  souls  in  pain, 

Witbin  anomer  ring, 
And  was  wondering  if  tbe  man  bad  done 

A  great  or  little  fbing, 
Wben  a  voice  bebind  me  ^bispered  low, 

"Tbat  fellow's  got  to  swing." 


'■) 


Dear  Ckrist!  the  very  prison  walls 

Suddenly  seemed  to  reel, 
And  the  sky  above  my  Head  became 

Like  a  casque  of  scorcking  steel; 
And,  thougk  I  was  a  soul  in  pain, 

M$  pain  I  could  not  feel. 

I  only  knew  what  kunted  tkougkt 
Quickened  kis  step,  and  wk$ 

He  looked  upon  fke  garisk  day 
Witk  suck  a  wistful  eye; 

One  man  kad  killed  me  thing  ke  loved, 
And  so  ke  kad  to  die. 

Yet  eack  man  kills  fne  thing  ke  loves, 

B;9  eack  let  mis  be  keard, 
Some  do  it  witk  a  bitter  look. 

Some  with  a  flattering  word; 
OTke  coward  does  it  witk  a  kiss, 

One  brave  man  witk  a  sword! 

Some  kill  their  love  wken  they  are  young, 
And  some  wken  they  are  old; 

Some  strangle  witk  tke  kands  of  Lust, 
Some  witk  tke  kands  of  Gold: 

*The  kindest  use  a  knife,  because 
^The  dead  so  soon  grow  cold. 


10 


Some  love  too  little,  some  too  long, 

Some  sell,  and  ofners  buy; 
Some  do  me  deed  wim  many  tears, 

And  some  wimout  a  sign; 
For  each  man  kills  me  thing  Ke  loves, 

I  et  each  man  does  not  die. 

He  does  not  die  a  death  of  shame 

On  a  day  of  dark  disgrace, 
Nor  have  a  noose  about  his  neck, 

Nor  a  cloth  upon  his  face, 
Nor  drop  feet  foremost  through  me  floor 

Into  an  emp$  space. 

He  does  not  sit  with  silent  men 
Who  watch  him  night  and  day; 

Who  watch  him  when  he  tries  to  w"eep, 
And  w'hen  he  tries  to  pray; 

Who  watch  him  lest  himself  should  rob 
CThe  prison  of  its  prey. 

He  does  not  wake  at  dawn  to  see 
Dread  figures  throng  his  room, 

^The  shivering  Chaplain  robed  in  white, 
^TheSheriff  stern  v?ith  gloom, 

And  fne  Governor  all  in  shiny  black, 

^  With  the  yellow  face  of  Doom. 


ii 


He  does  not  rise  in  piteous  Kaste 

To  put  on  convict  clothes, 
While  some  coarse-mouthed  Doctor  gloats, 

[and  notes 

Each  new*  and  nerve-twitched  pose, 
Fingering  a  watch  whose  little  ticks 

Are  like  horrible  hammer-blows. 

He  does  not  know  mat  sickening  thirst 
dnat  sands  one's  throat,  before 

*Tne  hangman  with  his  gardener's  gloves 
Slips  through  the  padded  door, 

And  binds  one  wim  fTiree  leathern  thongs 
Mtnat  fne  throat  may  thirst  no  more. 

He  does  not  bend  his  head  to  hear 

*Tne  Burial  Office  read, 
Nor,  while  fne  terror  of  his  soul 

Tells  him  he  is  not  dead, 
Cross  his  coffin,  as  he  moves 

Into  fne  hideous  shed. 

He  does  not  stare  upon  fhe  air 
^Through  a  little  roof  of  glass: 

He  does  not  pray  with  lips  of  claj) 
For  his  agony  to  pass; 

Nor  feel  upon  his  shuddering  cheek 
^The  kiss  of  Caiaphas. 

12 


SIX  weeks  our  guardsman  walked  me  yard, 
In  me  suit  of  shabby  gray; 
His  cricket  cap  was  on  his  Kead, 

And  his  step  seemed  light  and  gay\ 
But  I  never  saw  a  man  who  looked 
So  wistfully  at  me  day. 

I  never  saw  a  man  ^ho  looked 

Wim  such  a  wistful  eye 
Upon  me  little  tent  of  blue 

Which  prisoners  call  me  sk}\ 
And  at  every  wandering  cloud  mat  trailed 

Its  ravelled  fleeces  by. 

He  did  not  wring  his  hands,  as  do 
*Those  witless  men  who  dare 

To  try  to  rear  me  changeling  Hope 
In  me  cave  of  black  Despair: 

He  onlj)  looked  upon  me  sun, 
And  drank  me  morning  air. 

He  did  not  wring  his  hands  nor  weep, 

Nor  did  he  peek  or  pine, 
But  he  drank  the  air  as  though  it  held 

Some  healthful  anodyne; 
With  open  mouth  he  drank  the  sun 

As  though  it  had  been  wine! 

13 


And  I  and  all  tke  souls  in  pain, 
WKo  tramped  the  other  ring, 

Forgot  if  we  ourselves  had  done 
A  great  or  little  thing, 

And  -watched  with  gaze  of  dull  amaze 
m*e  man  who  had  to  swing. 

And  strange  it  was  to  see  him  pass 
With  a  step  so  light  and  gay, 

And  strange  it  was  to  see  him  look 
So  wistfully  at  the  day, 

And  strange  it  \>?as  to  think  that  he 
Had  such  a  debt  to  pay. 

For  oak  and  elm  have  pleasant  leaves 
nixat  in  the  spring-time  shoot: 

But  grim  to  see  is  the  gallows-tree, 
With  its  adder-titten  root, 

And,  green  or  dry\  a  man  must  die 
Before  it  bears  its  fruit ! 

<The  loftiest  place  is  that  seat  of  grace 
For  w'hich  all  worldlings  trp: 

But  who  would  stand  in  hempen  band 
Upon  a  scajfold  high, 

And  through  a  murderer's  collar  take 
His  last  look  at  the  sk$? 


14 


It  is  sweet  to  dance  to  violins 
Wken  Love  and  Life  are  fair: 

To  dance  to  flutes,  to  dance  to  lutes 
Is  delicate  and  rare: 

But  it  is  not  sweet  with  nimble  feet 
To  dance  upon  me  air! 

So  v?ith  curious  eyes  and  sick  surmise 
We  watched  Kim  day  by  day, 

And  wondered  if  each  one  of  us 
Would  end  fhe  self-same  way, 

For  none  can  tell  to  what  red  Hell 
His  sightless  soul  may  stray\ 

At  last  fhe  dead  man  walked  no  more 

Amongst  the  Trial  Men, 
And  I  knew*  that  he  was  standing  up 

In  fhe  black  dock's  dreadful  pen, 
And  mat  never  w'ould  I  see  his  face 

In  God's  sweet  world  again. 

Like  two  doomed  ships  that  pass  in  storm 
We  had  crossed  each  other's  way\ 

But  we  made  no  sign,  we  said  no  word, 
We  had  no  word  to  sa$; 

For  v?e  did  not  meet  in  fne  holy  night, 
But  in  fhe  shameful  day. 


15 


A  prison  wall  was  round  us  bom, 
Two  outcast  men  we  were: 

Hire  w"orld  had  fnrust  us  from  its  heart, 
And  God  from  out  His  care: 

And  me  iron  gin  mat  waits  for  Sin 
Had  caught  us  in  its  snare. 


16 


III. 

IN  Debtor's  Yard  fne  stones  are  hard 
And  fhe  dripping  wall  is  nigh, 
So  it  was  fhere  he  took  fhe  air 

Beneath  fhe  leaden  sky, 
And  by  each  side  a  Warder  walked, 
For  fear  fne  man  might  die. 

Or  else  he  sat  with  fhose  who  hatched 

His  anguish  night  and  da)?; 
Who  watched  him  when  he  rose  to  w"eep, 

And  when  he  crouched  to  pray; 
Who  watched  him  lest  himself  should  rob 

^Tneir  scaffold  of  its  prey\ 

*The  Governor  was  strong  upon 

nite  Regulations  Act: 
^The  Doctor  said  fne  deafn  was  but 

A  scientific  fact: 
And  twice  a  day"  (he  Chaplain  called, 

And  left  a  little  tract. 

And  twice  a  day"  he  smoked  his  pipe, 
And  drank  his  quart  of  beer: 

His  soul  was  resolute,  and  held 
KTo  hiding-place  for  fear; 

He  often  said  fhat  he  was  glad 
'lite  hangman's  hands  were  near. 


17 


But  why  he  said  so  strange  a  ming 

No  Warder  dared  to  ask: 
For  he  to  v?hom  a  watcher's  doom 

Is  given  as  his  task, 
Must  set  a  lock  upon  his  lips, 

And  make  his  face  mask. 

Or  else  he  might  be  moved,  and  try* 

To  comfort  or  console: 
And  -what  should  Human  Pit})  do 

Pent  up  in  Murderers'  Hole? 
What  word  of  grace  in  such  a  place 

Could  help  a  brother's  soul? 

With  slouch  and  swing  around  me  ring 

We  trod  the  Fools'  Parade! 
We  did  not  care:  w*e  knew  we  were 

HTie  Devil's  Own  Brigade: 
And  shaven  head  and  feet  of  lead 

Make  a  merry  masquerade. 

We  tore  the  tarry  rope  to  shreds 
With  blunt  and  bleeding  nails; 

We  rubbed  the  doors,  &  scrubbed  the  floors, 
And  cleaned  the  shining  rails: 

And,  rank  by  rank,  we  soaped  the  plank, 
And  clattered  with  the  pails. 


We  sewed  me  sacks,  we  broke  me  stones, 

We  turned  me  dusty  drill: 
We  banged  fne  tins,  &  bawled  me  hymns, 

And  sweated  on  me  mill: 
But  in  me  Heart  of  every  man 

Terror  was  lying  still. 

So  still  it  lay  tkat  every  day* 

Crawled  like  a  weed-clogged  wave: 

And  we  forgot  me  bitter  lot 
OTnat  waits  for  fool  and  knave, 

Till,  once,  as  we  tramped  in  from  work, 
We  passed  an  open  grave. 

Witk  yawning  mouth  {he  fellow  hole 

Gaped  for  a  living  thing; 
ni\e  very  mud  cried  out  for  blood 

To  fhe  thirsty  asphalt  ring: 
And  we  knew  that  ere  one  dawn  grew"  fair 

Some  prisoner  had  to  swing. 

Right  in  we  went,  \tfith  soul  intent 
On  Death  and  Dread  and  Doom: 

Qlie  hangman,  with  his  little  bag, 
Went  shuffling  mrough  the  gloom: 

And  each  man  trembled  as  he  crept 
Into  his  numbered  tomb. 


19 


Hliat  night  fhe  empty  corridors 

Were  full  of  forms  of  Fear, 
And  up  and  down  the  iron  town 

Stole  feet  we  could  not  hear, 
And  through  the  bars  mat  hide  the  stars 

White  faces  seemed  to  peer. 

He  lay  as  one  who  lies  and  dreams 

In  a  pleasant  meadow -land, 
Qlie  watchers  watched  him  as  he  slept, 

And  could  not  understand 
How*  one  could  sleep  so  sweet  a  sleep 

With  a  hangman  close  at  hand. 

But  mere  is  no  sleep  when  men  must  weep 

Who  never  yet  have  wept: 
So  we — me  fool,  the  fraud,  the  knave — 

QT\at  endless  vigil  kept, 
And  mrough  each  brain  on  hands  of  pain 

Another's  terror  crept. 

Alas!  it  is  a  fearful  thing 

To  feel  another's  guilt! 
For,  right  wimin,  the  sword  of  Sin 

Pierced  to  its  poisoned  hilt, 
And  as  molton  lead  were  the  tears  we  shed 

For  the  blood  we  had  not  spilt. 


20 


Hlie  Warders  with  fheir  shoes  of  felt 
Crept  by"  each  padlocked  door, 

And  peeped  and  saw,  with  eyes  of  awe, 
Gray  figures  on  me  poor, 

And  wondered  w*hy  wen  knelt  to  pray 
Who  never  prayed  before. 

All  through  fhe  night  xtfe  knelt  and  prayed, 

Mad  mourners  of  a  corpse! 
HTie  troubled  plumes  of  midnight  were 

*Tl\e  plumes  upon  a  hearse: 
And  bitter  wine  upon  a  sponge 

Was  che  savor  of  Remorse. 

nixe  gray  cock  crew,  fhe  red  cock  crew, 

But  never  came  fhe  day: 
And  crooked  shapes  of  Terror  crouched, 

In  fhe  corners  where  we  lay: 
And  each  evil  sprite  fhat  walks  by*  night 

Before  us  seemed  to  play\ 

^They*  glided  past,  fhey  glided  fast, 
Like  travelers  through  a  mist: 

OThey  mocked  the  moon  in  a  rigadoon 
Of  delicate  turn  and  twist, 

And  with  formal  pace  and  loathsome  grace 
^The  phantoms  kept  their  tryst. 


21 


With  mop  and  mow,  we  saw  them  go, 
Slim  shadow's  Hand  in  Hand: 

About,  about,  in  gkostly*  rout 
Tney  trod  a  saraband: 

And  me  damned  grotesques  made 

[arabesques, 
Like  the  wind  upon  me  sand! 

With  me  pirouettes  of  marionettes, 
Hlxey  tripped  on  pointed  tread: 

But  with  flutes  of  Fear  mey  filled  me  ear, 
As  meir  grisly  masque  mey  led, 

And  loud  mey  sang,  and  long  mey  sang, 
For  mey  sang  to  wake  me  dead. 


22 


"Oho!"  they  cried,  "The  world  is  wide 

But  fettered  limbs  go  lame! 
And  once,  or  trdice,  to  throv?  the  dice 

Is  a  gentlemanly*  game, 
But  he  does  not  win  tfho  plays  with  Sin 

In  the  secret  House  of  Shame." 

No  things  of  air  these  antics  were, 
OThat  frolicked  with  such  glee: 

To  men  whose  lives  were  held  in  gyves, 
And  whose  feet  might  not  go  free, 

Ah!  wounds  of  Christ!  they  were  living 

[things, 
Most  terrible  to  see. 


23 


Around,  around,  they  waltzed  and  wound; 

Some  wheeled  in  smirking  pairs; 
With  the  mincing  step  of  a  demirep 

Some  sidled  up  the  stairs: 
And  with  subtle  sneer,  and  fawning  leer, 
_    Each  helped  us  at  our  prayers. 

Trie  morning  wind  began  to  moan, 

But  still  the  night  went  on: 
Through  its  giant  loom  the  web  of  gloom 

Crept  till  each  thread  v?as  spun: 
And,  as  we  prayed,  w*e  grev?  afraid] 

Of  the  Justice  of  the  Sun. 

The  moaning  wind  went  wandering  round 

The  weeping  prison -wall: 
Till  like  a  w"heel  of  turning  steel 

We  felt  the  minutes  crawl: 
O  moaning  v?ind!  what  had  we  done 

To  have  such  a  seneschal? 

At  last  I  saw*  the  shadowed  bars, 
Like  a  lattice  wrought  in  lead, 

Move  right  across  the  whitewashed  wall 
That  faced  my  three-plank  bed, 

And  I  knew  that  somewhere  in  the  world 
God's  dreadful  dav?n  was  red. 


24 


At  six  o'clock  \Ce  cleaned  our  cells, 

At  seven  all  was  still, 
But  fhe  sough  and  swing  of  a  mighty  wing 

*The  prison  seemed  to  fill, 
For  me  Lord  of  Deam  wim  icy  bream 

Had  entered  in  to  kill. 

He  did  not  pass  in  purple  pomp, 
Mor  ride  a  moon-white  steed. 

*Three  yards  of  cord  and  a  sliding  board 
Are  all  me  gallows  need: 

So  with  rope  of  shame  me  Herald  came 
To  do  me  secret  deed. 

We  were  as  men  who  through  a  fen 

Of  filmy  darkness  grope: 
We  did  not  dare  to  breathe  a  prater, 

Or  to  give  an  anguish  scope: 
Something  was  dead  in  each  of  us, 

And  w*hat  was  dead  was  Hope. 

For  Man's  grim  Justice  goes  its  way, 

And  \£ill  not  swerve  aside: 
It  slays  the  weak,  it  slays  me  strong, 

It  has  a  deadly  stride : 
With  iron  heel  it  slays  me  strong, 

Ofhe  monstrous  parricide ! 


25 


We  waited  for  trie  stroke  of  eight: 
Each  tongue  w*as  thick  with  thirst: 

For  the  stroke  of  eight  is  fhe  stroke  of  Fate 
MLnat  makes  a  man  accursed, 

And  Fate  will  use  a  running  noose 
For  me  best  man  and  the  worst. 

We  had  no  other  thing  to  do, 

Save  to  wait  for  the  sign  to  come: 

So,  like  things  of  stone  in  a  valley  lone, 
Quiet  we  sat  and  dumb: 

But  each  man's  heart  beat  fhick  and  quick, 
Like  a  madman  on  a  drum! 

With  sudden  shock  the  prison-clock 

Smote  on  the  shivering  air, 
And  from  all  the  gaol  rose  up  a  wail 

Of  impotent  despair, 
Like  the  sound  that  frightened  marshes  hear 

From  some  leper  in  his  lair. 

And  as  one  sees  most  fearful  things 

In  the  crystal  of  a  dream, 
We  saw  the  greasy  hempen  rope 

Hooked  to  the  blackened  beam, 
And  heard  the  prayer  the  hangman's  snare 

Strangled  into  a  scream. 


26 


And  all  the  woe  that  moved  Kim  so 
HTiat  Ke  gave  tkat  bitter  cry, 

And  me  wild  regrets,  and  me  bloody  sweats, 
None  knew  so  well  as  I:  » 

For  he  wko  lives  more  lives  than  one 
More  deaths  than  one  must  die. 


27 


IV. 

THERE  is  no  chapel  on  me  day 
On  which  mey*  hang  a  man: 
<The  Chaplain's  heart  is  far  too  sick, 

Or  his  face  is  far  too  wan, 
Or  there  is  that  written  in  his  eyes 
Which  none  should  look  upon. 

So  they  kept  us  close  till  nigh  on  noon, 
And  then  they  rang  me  bell, 

And  the  Warders  \tfith  their  jingling  keys 
Opened  each  listening  cell, 

And  down  me  iron  stair  we  tramped, 
Each  from  his  separate  Hell. 

Out  into  God's  sweet  air  we  went, 

But  not  in  wonted  way, 
For  mis  man's  face  was  white  witn  fear, 

And  mat  man's  face  \tfas  gray, 
And  I  never  saw"  sad  men  who  looked 

So  wistfully  at  the  day\ 

I  never  saw  sad  men  who  looked 

With  such  a  wistful  eye 
Upon  mat  little  tent  of  blue 

We  prisoners  called  the  sky, 
And  at  ev*erp  careless  cloud  that  passed 

In  happy  freedom  by. 


28 


But  there  v?ere  those  amongst  us  all 
Who  walked  with  downcast  head, 

And  knew  that,  had  each  got  his  due, 
They  should  have  died  instead: 

He  had  but  killed  a  thing  that  lived, 
Whilst  thej)  had  killed  the  dead. 

For  he  who  sins  a  second  time 

Wakes  a  dead  soul  to  pain, 
And  draw's  it  from  its  spotted  shroud, 

And  makes  it  bleed  again, 
And  makes  it  bleed  great  gouts  of  blood, 

And  makes  it  bleed  in  vain! 

Like  ape  or  clown,  in  monstrous  garb 
With  crooked  arrow's  starred, 

Silently  we  went  round  and  round 
niie  slippery  asphalte  $ard; 

Silently  w"e  went  round  and  round, 
And  no  man  spoke  a  word. 

Silently*  we  w"ent  round  and  round, 
And  through  each  hollow  mind 

OTie  Memory  of  dreadful  things 
Rushed  like  a  dreadful  wind, 

And  Horror  stalked  before  each  man, 
And  Terror  crept  behind. 


29 


^The  Warders  strutted  up  and  down, 
And  kept  their  herd  of  brutes, 

Qheir  uniforms  were  spick  and  span, 
And  fhej)  wore  their  Sunday  suits, 

But  we  knew  the  ^ork  they  had  been  at, 
By  the  quicklime  on  their  boots. 

For  where  a  grav^e  had  opened  wide, 

Mnere  was  no  grave  at  all : 
Onl;9  a  stretch  of  mud  and  sand 

By  the  hideous  prison-wall, 
And  a  little  heap  of  burning  lime, 

Qnat  the  man  should  have  his  pall. 

For  he  has  a  pall,  this  wretched  man, 

Such  as  few  men  can  claim: 
Deep  down  below  a  prison-yard, 

Naked  for  greater  shame, 
He  lies,  with  fetters  on  each  foot, 

Wrapt  in  a  sheet  of  flame. 

And  all  the  v?hile  the  burning  lime 

Eats  flesh  and  bone  away. 
It  eats  the  brittle  bone  by  night, 

And  me  soft  flesh  by  day, 
It  eats  me  flesh  and  bone  by  turns, 

But  it  eats  me  heart  alv?ay. 


30 


For  three  long  years  they"  w*ill  not  sow 

Or  root  or  seedling  there: 
For  three  long  $ears  &e  unblessed  spot 

Will  sterile  be  and  bare, 
And  look  upon  me  wondering  sky 

With  unreproackful  stare. 

^Tkey  mink  a  murderer's  keart  would  taint 

EacK  simple  seed  me}?  sow. 
It  is  not  true!  God's  kindly  earth 

Is  kindlier  man  men  know, 
And  me  red  rose  would  but  blow  more  red, 

The  w'hite  rose  whiter  blow. 

Out  of  his  mourn  a  red,  red  rose! 

Out  of  his  heart  a  white! 
For  who  can  say  h$  \>?hat  strange  w"ay, 

Christ  brings  his  will  to  light, 
Since  me  barren  staff  the  pilgrim  bore 

Bloomed  in  me  great  Pope's  sight? 

But  neither  milk-w'hite  rose  nor  red 

May  bloom  in  prison  air; 
^The  shard,  the  pebble,  and  me  flint, 

Are  what  they  give  us  mere: 
For  flowers  ha\)e  been  knov?n  to  heal 

A  common  man's  despair. 


3* 


So  nev*er  \flill  vJine-red  rose  or  white, 

Petal  by  petal,  fall 
On  that  stretcK  of  mud  and  sand  mat  lies 

By  me  hideous  prison-wall, 
To  tell  me  men  who  tramp  me  yard 

m^at  God's  Son  died  for  all. 

Yet  fnough  me  hideous  prison-wall 
Still  hems  him  round  and  round, 

And  a  spirit  may"  not  walk  by*  night 
^That  is  with  fetters  bound, 

And  a  spirit  may  but  weep  that  lies 
In  such  unholy  ground, 

He  is  at  peace — this  wretched  man — , 

At  peace,  or  will  be  soon: 
^There  is  no  tiling  to  make  him  mad, 

Nor  does  Terror  walk  at  noon, 
For  the  lampless  Earth  in  which  he  lies 

Has  neither  Sun  nor  Moon. 

<The>>  hanged  him  as  a  beast  is  hanged: 

They  did  not  even  toll 
A  requiem  mat  might  have  brought 

Rest  to  his  startled  soul, 
But  hurriedly  fhey  took  him  out, 

And  hid  him  in  a  hole. 


32 


Hliey  stripped  him  of  his  canvas  clothes, 

And  gave  him  to  the  flies; 
Hliey  mocked  the  swollen  purple  throat, 

And  the  stark  and  staring  eyes: 
And  with  laughter  loud  they  heaped 

the  shroud 

In  which  their  convict  lies. 

Hlie  Chaplain  would  not  kneel  to  pray 

By  his  dishonored  grave: 
Nor  mark  it  wim  mat  blessed  Cross 

^That  Christ  for  sinners  gave, 
Because  fne  man  was  one  of  those 

Whom  Christ  came  down  to  save. 

Yet  all  is  well;  he  has  but  passed 

To  Life's  appointed  bourne: 
And  alien  tears  will  fill  for  him 

Pity's  long-broken  urn, 
For  his  mourners  will  be  outcast  men, 

And  outcasts  always  mourn. 


33 


V. 

IKNCW  not  wketker  Laws  be  rigkt, 
Or  whether  Laws  be  wrong; 
All  that  we  know  who  lie  in  gaol 

Is  that  me  wall  is  strong; 
And  that  each  day  is  like  a  j)ear, 
A  year  whore  days  are  long. 

But  this  I  know,  mat  every  Law* 
<That  men  have  made  for  Man, 

Since  first  Man  took  kis  brotker's  life, 
And  me  sad  world  began, 

But  straws  me  wkeat  and  saves  me  ckaff 
Witk  a  most  evil  fan. 

^This  too  I  know* — and  wise  it  w*ere 
If  eack  could  know"  me  same — 

OThat  every  prison  mat  men  build 
Is  built  witk  bricks  of  skame, 

And  bound  witk  bars  lest  Ckrist  skould  see 
How  men  meir  brotkers  maim. 

Witk  bars  mey  blur  fke  gracious  moon, 

And  blind  me  goodly  sun: 
And  mey  do  well  to  kide  meir  Hell, 

For  in  it  things  are  done 
niiat  Son  of  God  nor  son  of  Man 

Ever  skould  look  upon! 


34 


OThe  vilest  deeds  like  poison  weeds 

Bloom  well  in  prison-air: 
It  is  only  what  is  good  in  Man 

OThat  wastes  and  withers  mere: 
Pale  Anguish  keeps  me  heavy*  gate, 

And  me  Warder  is  Despair. 

For  fhey  starve  me  little  frightened  child 
Till  it  weeps  both  night  and  day: 

And  tney  scourge  the  weak,and  flog  me  fool, 
And  gibe  me  old  and  gray, 

And  some  grow  mad,  and  all  grotf  bad, 
And  none  a  word  may.  say\ 

Each  narrow  cell  in  which  we  d\>?ell 

Is  a  foul  and  dark  latrine, 
And  the  fetid  breath  of  living  Death 

Chockes  up  each  grated  screen, 
And  all,  but  Lust,  is  turned  to  dust 

In  Humanity's  machine. 

*"The  brackish  water  mat  ^e  drink 
Creeps  with  a  loathsome  slime, 

And  me  bitter  bread  tney  weigh  in  scales 
Is  full  of  chalk  and  lime, 

And  Sleep  will  not  lie  down,  but  walks 
Wild-eyed,  and  cries  to  Time. 


35 


But  {hough  lean  Hunger  and  green  mkirst 

Like  asp  with  adder  fight, 
We  have  little  care  of  prison  fare, 

For  what  chills  and  kills  outright 
Is  fhat  every  stone  one  lifts  by  day 

Becomes  one's  heart  by  night. 

With  midnight  always  in  one's  heart, 

And  twilight  in  one's  cell, 
We  turn  the  crank,  or  tear  fhe  rope, 

Each  in  his  separate  Hell, 
And  fhe  silence  is  more  awful  far 

<Trtan  fhe  sound  of  a  brazen  bell. 

And  never  a  human  voice  comes  near 

To  speak  a  gentle  word: 
And  fhe  eye  fhat  watches  through  fhe  door 

Is  pitiless  and  hard: 
And  b$  all  forgot,  we  rot  and  rot, 

With  soul  and  bod;p  marred. 

And  thus  we  rust  Life's  iron  chain 

Degraded  and  alone: 
And  some  men  curse,  and  some  men  w*eep, 

And  some  men  make  no  moan: 
But  God's  eternal  Laws  are  kind 

And  break  fhe  heart  of  stone. 


36 


And  every  human  heart  fhat  breaks, 

In  prison-cell  or  yard, 
Is  as  that  broken  box  fhat  gave 

Its  treasure  to  (he  Lord, 
And  filled  the  unclean  leper's  house 

With  the  scent  of  costliest  nard. 

Ah!  happy  the>>  whose  heart  can  break 

And  peace  of  pardon  win! 
How*  else  maj)  man  make  straight  his  plan 

And  cleanse  his  soul  from  Sin? 
How  else  but  through  a  broken  heart 

May*  Lord  Christ  enter  in? 

And  he  of  the  swollen  purple  throat, 
And  the  stark  and  staring  eyes, 

Waits  for  the  holy  hands  that  took 
Qne  Thief  to  Paradise; 

And  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart 
nThe  Lord  w"ill  not  despise. 

^The  man  in  red  w"ho  reads  the  Law* 
Gave  him  three  weeks  of  life, 

CThree  little  weeks  in  which  to  heal 
His  soul  of  his  soul's  strife, 

And  cleanse  from  every  blot  of  blood 
*The  hand  fhat  held  fhe  knife. 


37 


And  wim  tears  of  blood  he  cleansed 

[4te  hand, 

Hilxe  hand  that  held  the  steel: 
For  only  blood  can  -wipe  out  blood, 

And  only  tears  can  heal: 
And  the  crimson  stain  mat  was  of  Cain 

Became  Christ's  snow-white  seal. 


38 


VI. 

IN  Reading  Gaol  by  Reading  town 
^There  is  a  pit  of  shame, 
And  in  it  lies  a  wretched  man 

Eaten  by  teeth  and  flame, 
In  a  burning  winding-sheet  he  lies, 
And  his  grave  has  got  no  name. 

And  mere,  till  Christ  call  forth  the  dead, 

In  silence  let  him  lie: 
No  need  to  waste  the  foolish  tear, 

Or  heave  the  v?indy  sigh: 
Qhe  man  had  killed  the  thing  he  loved, 

And  so  he  had  to  die. 

And  all  men  kill  the  thing  they  love, 

B3?  all  let  this  be  heard, 
Some  do  it  witn  a  bitter  look, 

Some  witn  a  flattering  word. 
nThe  coward  does  it  vJith  a  kiss, 

Hiixe  brave  man  with  a  sv?ord! 


c 


3-3- 


39 


\Q\  i  L 


